


My Fool

by orphan_account



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Corruption, Dominance, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy, Femdom, Fictional Religion & Theology, Fucking, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Conflict, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Inexperience, Submission, Succubi & Incubi, Thighs, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Finnegan's oaths and honour are tested when he is seduced by an omnicubus who aims to turn him into her personal thrall."a.k.a. Borderline-himbo paladin gets fucked by a pretty woman and enjoys it.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original D&D Character(s)/Other(s), Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s)/Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s), Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 18





	My Fool

Though never one to brag, Finnegan honestly thought that he was a dab hand at using his sword.

His fighting skills, as unpolished as they might’ve been, had kept him alive well enough, hadn’t they?

But right now - pinned wholesale underneath what he could only identify as some type of demonic creature of sorts, stripped down to his underclothes - every battle instinct he’d ever honed had been dulled to a helpless point.

This… this was not a situation he’d ever prepared himself for.

Trying his best to squirm out from under her, Finnegan stops abruptly when he feels her hardness brush against his thigh. He can’t hide his gasp of surprise, nor the furious hue of red that flushes his pale skin at the discovery.

He can’t even bring himself to look her in the eye - but the hungry omnicubus’ eyes never leave him. They rake over him hungrily before coming to a swift decision. This little morsel will do.

 _He looks so sweet_. 

She wants to bend him over the nearest hard surface and pound him so hard he forgets his own _god_. See what lovely faces he can make for her. 

Make him _hers_.

She lets out a plaintive sigh of disappointment, scanning the empty clearing around them.

As it is, that will have to wait.

For now, she consoles herself with the task of mounting him, settling her hips down against his.

If he flinches and flusters at even something as small as this, the prospect of everything she wants to do with him fills her with giddy, bubbling delight.

Sitting on top of him, Finnegan finds that he can hardly draw breath into his lungs. 

She’s _toying_ with him - like a cat to mouse. He is the prey.

Less-than-chaste fantasies he thought he’d buried long, long ago, in pursuit of his faith, come rushing up to the surface. 

He thinks about soft thighs and pretty girls fucking him hard and all the things he likes so much - every banished, _sinful_ thought he never let himself think.

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick down to her thighs, then immediately away - suddenly aghast at his own wandering, dishonourable gaze.

She’d think him foolish if she didn’t find it so damn _cute_. 

Straddling his hips, she’s openly eyeing him like he’s her last supper. 

What does he expect to happen?

Leaning forward, she allows the soft swell of her breasts to hang in his face - in his immediate line of sight.

His Adam’s apple bobs nervously - _adorably -_ as he swallows against an inexplicable knot of arousal in his throat. 

It makes her _ravenous_ for him.

“Just lay back and look pretty,” she purrs out, tail curling around his upper thigh. It sends a jolt through him.

“Oh, uh, miss- you’re getting mighty high up there on my leg…” he chuckles out nervously, though the sweat dotting his brow and the tent in his underclothes betray his obvious interest. 

He draws in a shaky breath - nails digging into the palms of his hands, fists clenched tightly in his last show of self-restraint - as though praying for the gods to grant him clemency.

She’s so warm, her skin is so soft. And she’s beautiful.

He wants nothing more than to lean into her touch, but he cuts himself off.

No! He shouldn’t! He shouldn’t...

Finnegan swore a vow to his church, and he swore himself to premarital chastity - so as to not desecrate and disrespect the sanctity of marriage.

But how could he be expected to resist a lady like her?

He’s enraptured.

Finnegan shakes his head, clears his throat - and tries anything he can to get his mind off her.

It doesn’t work.

Her aura is just intoxicating. 

She smells like warm spices. He finds himself punch-drunk on the scent. He wants to bury his face into the crook of her neck and just breathe her in. 

He just about barely restrains himself from that odd, baser desire that strikes him. It wouldn’t be proper. 

Admittedly, nothing about this is proper.

Finally, he finds a transient slip of his sensibilities - he should say something, oh dear, he should say something, he should-

“Wait, wait, wait!” Finnegan finally stammers out, though you’d think he’d just come out of combat from how laboured he makes the words look.

Despite herself, she stops, fixing him with a long, oddly measured, look.

“If you really want me to go, I will but… you want me, don’t you?” she asks. 

Her honeyed words drip with faux-sweetness, yet it does little to conceal the hunger in them. 

She makes him think of sugared razorblades. 

He burns with shame when he finds how desperately his cock twitches at the thought of being held entirely at her mercy.

Finally drawing up the courage to look at the woman, Finnegan takes her in properly.

With dark, unruly curls of hair, and an almost-regal curve of her horns framing her face, pursed lips and naked expanse of soft, red curves, there for the touching if she allows him to... 

She’s nothing short of irresistible.

The words claw themselves out of his throat before he even realises what he’s saying. The desperate rasp of his voice makes her smile in a way that catches his breath in his throat.

“Um, no, actually, it’s fine! Continue?”

The omnicubus flashes him a fanged grin, and suddenly, he can’t help but feel like he’s made a mistake.

Perhaps one of the best mistakes of his entire life.

Brusquely, she pulls down the last remaining layers of fabric that protect his decency; looping a hand around the back of his thighs, she hoists them up to his chest. 

He’s on display to the world - it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. 

Finnegan feels… vulnerable like this, but he can’t deny that some part of him is enjoying being manhandled by the most gorgeous specimen he’s ever had the fortune of laying his eyes upon.

And there’s a supernatural fluidity to her movements that just makes it impossible to look away from her. 

Even when her movements are sharp and deliberate, they hold a grace that leaves him in awe of her.

She traces a slow path down his body starting from his chest, gently brushing over one of his nipples. 

He twitches severely under her touch, and now she’s _fascinated_.

“Ah! Sorry- sensitive!” he yelps out, blue eyes focusing on anything else but her.

What a fool. Letting an omnicubus know your weaknesses. Truly, a fool.

He’s lucky - or unlucky, depending on who you ask - he’s handsome.

She twists one of his nipples _hard_ , and delights in his overstimulated cry - but she moves on soon enough. She’ll have plenty of time to play with her little toy in the future.

Unexpectedly, Finnegan feels her nails sink deeply into the soft flesh of his thigh. He winces at the bite of pain that follows, but his hips buck up at the ache.

Before he became a man of faith and therefore abstinence from any such activities, Finnegan admits that he has touched himself like this before - fucked himself on his fingers when the curiosity became too great to ignore.

Still, it has been a while since…

“Oh!”

An involuntary moan escapes as his lips part at the sudden press of her fingers against his hole.

Surprisingly, she takes the time to prep him - and he’s grateful for it, though she isn’t particularly gentle. 

Even just her fingers inside him feel so good, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

The rising urge to clamp a hand over his mouth to hide the moans he’s making strikes him, but his hands feel trapped at his sides when he tries. 

_Must be some sort of omnicubus magic._

Done with patience, she pushes into him with slow, deliberate movements. When she finally bottoms out inside him, the noise he lets out is nothing short of a whimper. 

She drinks it in like fine wine, forked tongue flicking out against his pulse point.

“Can you relax for me, baby?”

Moving her hips in small, delicious thrusts over his, somehow Finnegan thinks that he’d do anything she asked of him if she said it in a tone like that.

She can feel a shudder run through his body at the pet name - she feels it around her cock and it’s _addictive_. 

“Oh, you liked that, _sweetie_?” she coos, her tone nothing short of sickly-sweet saccharine. 

Her words are punctuated with a hard thrust that makes him arch against her with a low groan of pleasure.

Her tail lashes against his thigh, leaving a thin red strip in its wake. It makes him flinch and she sighs at the feeling of him squeezing around her.

Finnegan burns with the humiliation of being spoken down to like this. In an odd way, he finds that he desperately enjoys it.

“I asked you a question. Well, if puppy isn’t going to speak up, then he shouldn’t have the right to at all, huh?”

She reaches over to stuff her discarded underwear (a thin scrap of fabric that left nothing to the imagination) into his mouth. 

Finnegan’s protests come out muffled against his makeshift gag, but he makes little attempt to actually wriggle out of her grasp or buck her off.

Suddenly, she’s fucking him _hard_ , hips smacking against his thighs. Even through a mouthful of fabric, his cries are loud and sharp.

Drool pools in his mouth, and trickles down a corner of his chin, face flushed with unabashed bliss. 

He looks like a mess. 

A beautifully wrecked mess.

_Hers._

Her hand wraps around his cock and gives him a firm squeeze, still slamming into him.

It’s the last thing he needs to cum.

She could’ve edged him to tears. She could’ve made him beg for permission.

But for once, she grants leniency. (Though she tucks the fun little idea away for later.)

The young man under her looks delirious - like he’s almost crying - as he reaches a peak of blinding pleasure he’s never known before. His moans are so fucking _hot_ , they make her cock throb inside him. She’s so close to the edge now...

Fantastic orgasms. Such are the perks of being with a sex demon, for the small price of a little, irretrievable sliver of your soul. 

Wait, wow. She can’t believe he’s actually crying.

It’s pathetic. 

She _loves_ it.

It’s the last thing she needs to finally reach her climax - delighting in how deeply she’s packing her cum into him. It drips out of his hole around her and it’s dizzyingly satisfying.

It takes her a long while to slip her cock out of him, but when she does, she stands up and towers over his trembling form.

When he finally opens his tired eyes, still lying breathless against the ground - he looks so goddamn moonstruck. 

Finnegan’s gaze is nothing short of reverent, staring up at her like she’s a thing of wonder. It would take less than a passing glance at him to see how he worships her.

Musing for a moment, she thinks that she could perhaps get used to this kind of wide-eyed devotion. 

\---

Finnegan loses his grasp on time when he’s with her.

Shushing him, he’s told that he doesn’t need to fuss his pretty little head about it, and he bends to the firm yet gentle demand.

His eyes have gone blanker than usual. He’s nothing but a slave to pleasure - both his and hers. 

He’s the cutest little puppy dog she’s ever had. She should get him a collar with his name engraved on it. The thought makes her snicker. 

He’s so desperate for her touch (her hands, her tongue, her cock - even her tail, she supposes) that he’d probably get himself off on her foot if she asked it of him. 

She thinks that later she might do just that. 

How adorable, that the ‘holy little warrior’ thought he could ever hold any resistance against her.

She cups his cheek, brushing the floppy hair out of his eyes in a surprising show of tenderness. 

She may be a cruel and demanding mistress at times, but she always takes care of her thrall.

**Author's Note:**

> An exercise in following prompts and slowly trying to learn how to write explicit content without getting very embarrassed. 
> 
> I am very embarrassed.  
> Bon appetit.


End file.
